There Is No Heaven
by libaka
Summary: Petunia Harry interactions. Shows reasons for Petunia's treatment of Harry. some hint of abuse. slightly AU


AN: Hey all! For some reason I really wanted to write this. Not sure why. Maybe it will break my writer's block?

This story is much angsty-er than my usual, so it feels weird to be posting it. Hope you enjoy! Please read and review

Many thanks to TamX2 for editing. You are the best :)

There Is No Heaven

It was hard. It was so very hard to look at that boy and see her baby sister standing in his place and working so hard to please a world that rejected her. Petunia watched her young nephew push the vacuum around the carpet that decorated her floors, watched that little boy carry plates from the shelf to her table, and watched the big green eyes stare at the bouquet of asian lilies displayed in thin glass vases down the middle of the table. Those eyes matched her little, naïve sister's eyes when she gazed at the letter that changed all their lives that opened the gap between the sisters. Awe, pleasure, and happiness poured out of the green eyes, practically setting his tiny face aglow as his pretty little smile spread across his soft cheeks. Petunia hated how much he looked like her sister when he did that. It made it so much harder to resist babying him the way she babied her naïve sister, so much harder to stop herself from wrapping him up in cotton and soft clouds to protect him from the evil that lay in his very veins. She would not let another magical freak get into her heart, no matter how much his eyes glowed like her sister's and his smile lit his entire little face like only Lily's could. Petunia would not fall prey to that loss again when Lily's world would steal the boy from her grasp, fill his inquisitive mind with strange words and names, and seal the doorway without letting her take one more peek.

"Move, boy!" Petunia watched as Vernon herded the boy out of the dining room and into the kitchen where she sat putting the finishing touches on the platter of food. She would not let this boy stop her from hosting her little get-togethers with Vernon's coworkers, not anymore. Six years she had let pass before she dared let others into her home that that boy haunted. It would not happen again. She would make him help her set up, let him see how pretty the dining room could be when her pressed linens and delicate china were placed on the table, and then do what Lily did to her—push him out of that little heaven and back into the real world. The real world didn't have silky linens that slipped across your fingertips like water. The real world didn't have lovely painted plates that were so thin they were almost see-through. The real world didn't have flying or charms or that foolish wand-waving. The real world did not have magic. Petunia knew that and she would make sure that boy did too.

Petunia's resolve shook as the boy peered around the kitchen, taking in all the displayed food and then staring at what he knew would be left for him—the bowl of cold mashed potatoes and string beans. Her little angel's leftovers. The boy sighed, picked up the bowl and took it to the table to eat. She watched as he plucked the fork from the drawer, then pulled himself onto the chair he had pushed to the edge. Her determination to teach him that the world does not give you what you dream of wavered as he closed his eyes and dug in, pushing the food into his mouth and barely chewing before swallowing. She trembled as he finished, looked up at her, and said "Thank you for the food Aunt Petunia. The biscuits and gravy and roasted turkey were wonderful." She watched as he placed the plate on the counter to be washed and walked out of the room to shut himself into his cupboard. She knew what he was doing—just as she had done once she had seen what was truly heavenly. Pretend it was true with all his might when he returned to the real world. Just as she had played at casting spells and making potions and seeing the future, he was playing at eating scrumptious foods and sitting at luxurious tables and retiring to a majestic room. He was just like her.

She hated that. She hated that he took to her teaching so similarly to how she took to the world's, to Lily's unflinching example. It wasn't fair that she couldn't spare herself the agony of losing someone else to that heavenly place she had only glimpsed. It wasn't fair that she couldn't help but want to make that boy's dreams come true the way she did with Vernon's dreams and Dudley's. It wasn't fair that for all she resisted and refused and denied the urge, she still was compelled to make it happen. So just as she always did, when the others were sleeping, Petunia slipped down the stairs to that boy's cupboard, unlatched the door, and held him and patted his darling little head while he slept and dreamed those beautiful dreams of his. Petunia rocked him through the hour, tucking the blanket tight around him to prevent any chill from seeping in. Just as she always did, Petunia smoothed his hair back from his forehead, pressed a kiss to the lightening scar, and whispered, "Sleep well, Harry."


End file.
